Part of me:Colorado use to have a military type bootcamp for non violent felons. (Thieves/Addicts)
The day before I went, we had been transported to a county jail to house us for the night.
Dudes didn’t have a care in the world. Showing off, doing pushups, strutting around trying to establish dominance of the situation.
Something told me to save my strength for what was coming as I watched them get all crossfit crazy with shirtless machosim.
The next morning we loaded onto a school bus with female inmates to go to bootcamp.
When we arrived. I noticed civilians with cameras waiting outside the entrance to the facility.
There was yellow boot prints painted in a square formation on the asphalt.
A door opened with (campaign)Smokey the Bear hat instructors in a single file line marching towards the bus assertively.
A whistle or command was given when the line divided to charge the bus through the front and back door entrance and exit.
It was like a stampede. Instructors were hard slamming people into each other and windows, while yelling “get the f’ck off my bus”
People tried to get out of their seats but got pushed back down or into someone else.
The females were screaming and the dudes were shocked with fear in their eyes. (Gangsters)
They ran us to the painted boot prints and started yelling at us while distributing brown jersey gloves for our hands.
It was freezing outside, November.
With phalanges covered,they began demanding we do pushups and various exercises.
Then they screamed “get back on the bus, you worthless mf’ers”
We hustled to get back on the bus but people fell down and got trampled on.
The girls were crying and the dudes were wild eyed trying to catch their breath.
The instructors posed for civilian pictures while we tried to figure out what was going on.
Here they come again, hauling ass!
Charging back onto the bus they repeated the same yell, push, grab and slam techniques.
I remember a couple of the girls being stuck on the middle floor aisle of the bus.
Big dudes cleating down on those poor chicks with their boots to get off the bus. It was chaos.
After a few times, our brown jersey gloves and the knees of our pants had holes in them. The fingertips shredded open first on the asphalt.
That’s when they officially herded us within their razor wired fences and obstacle course(s).
We ran around the outside of the main building to the back where they trashed us some more before sending inside to the gymnasium.
There was two long lines formed, two chairs and two men with haircut clippers.
We got the worst haircuts you ever seen. They swiped are heads with the clippers six or seven times and called it good.
Now enlisted with shaved heads. They rushed us to our barracks.
Lockers and bunk beds, just like the movies.
They had military quotes stenciled on our walls. We had to recite verses of integrity and honor all the time while standing ready.
Chin up, forward eyes, heels together, toes at a 45, palms on sides. Chest out.
The first night. I woke up to hearing a dude shouting “Sir, Yes Sir” talking in his sleep. Traumatized.
At 6am they played the reveille wakeup call. Storming into our barracks, trashing us with push ups, mountain climbers, jumping jacks, etc
They only allowed us to have 3 minutes or something wild to use the bathroom, get dressed and make your bed perfectly.
It was so gross. No stall walls, just Men looking you in the eye while brushing their teeth and taking a shit at the same time.
One of the instructors walking by our bathroom said
“You better pinch that sucker off and get your boots on soldier”
There’s no privacy. When we showered, it was like at the public pool. Just a square room full of shower heads.
An instructor stood in the middle of the shower room (dry spot) and would bark at people to move to each shower head in a rotation around the room. We got about 5-10 seconds under each one.
The routine was brutal. We couldn’t just march or walk to the cafeteria for breakfast. They made us crawl on our bellies or catapillar each other, crab walking with our feet on shoulders in front of us.
when we ate, we had to keep our heels together under the tables. You had to eat at a 90degree angle . Straight down and up with your fork, then back to your mouth.
I didn’t one time and had to eat standing up facing the wall like a little kid. I recognized that some of these instructors are getting off on this authority.
After we ate for 15 minutes or less. The return to our barracks was no different. Exhausting and humiliating efforts were demanded.
If one person messed up anything. They trashed everyone for it. Every time you pressed down for a pushup. Everyone would thank that recruit verbally. “Thanks you recruit (last name). “
We got mad at each other fairly for causing extra endurance challenges. The workouts were severe.
They had us put on all of our socks, pants, snowcaps, shirts and coats buttoned to the throat.
Then roll up our blankets pillow and mattress and told to run in place holding your bed gear above your head.
I lost 21 pounds of weight in 7 days. The inside of my thighs were chaffed from jogging like 6 miles behind a giant 6’6″+ instructor, that had a 45lb plate in his backpack for fun while leading us delinquents.
The pay off for completion was a chance for an early release. Can you survive three months of torture basically. The sad part is, it didn’t work.
They discovered that the majority of graduates ended up violating their parole and returned to prison anyway.
As for me, it didn’t work out. One morning after breakfast and returned to our bunks. I noticed my belt buckle had broken.
It must have happened crawling on my belly with my arms tucked to my sides. I approached the middle guard hub station that could view all of the barracks.
“Sir, this recruit request permission to replace a malfunctioned buckle..Sir”
A nod of approval was given from the authority until another Instructor approached my flank. With a mirrored height, we did not see eye to eye about the situation.
Close enough to feel heat, he looked down at my broken buckle and it was on! He summoned another instructor to eyeball my belt buckle neglect.
They both started in on me as if I broke it on purpose. It was Hyena pack attack within seconds. They back peddled me to a wall next to our barracks.
Everyone stopped what they were doing. The focus and priority was on me. It was time to get super trashed.
“Lock it up” was the official command to stand in attention. They had me perform all sorts of up and down exercises.
Then they would shout, “One canteen to the order” that’s when you can’t take your canteen from your lips until you drink all of your water.
When I chugged it all, I had to run into the bathroom and refill my canteen from the sink.
Then they repeated the trashing routine on me until they called another canteen to the order. I only made it about half way before I puked all the water out.
As I was vomiting , they started trashing my platoon telling them to thank me with every push up.
As I composed myself, an instructor was on each sid of me. Both yelling in my ears. I could smell alcohol from the one on my right ear.
His spit from yelling hit the inside my ear. I raised my hand to wipe it and was slammed to the ground for an act of aggression for lifting my hand above my waist.
They put me in their “hole/room” until they figured out my punishment options. They had a motivational/punishment course off to the side for guys like me.
It was a last chance offer or you would be booted out to the real prisons. Before this happened, I seen bigger and stronger looking dudes than me come back bloody, beat down and crying.
I rejected their deal and was sent across the street to Buena Vista, Gladiator school.
A month later, I started seeing the people I was in bootcamp with in the same wing as me. It didn’t help them at all, even after graduating.
Respect to everyone that went through it. Definitely a Thanksgiving and Christmas that I’ll remember.
“Lock it up”
